


Birth

by orphan_account



Series: Assassin's Creed AU [1]
Category: Assassin's Creed, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassin's Creed Fusion, Alternate Universe - Human, Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-31
Updated: 2015-08-07
Packaged: 2018-04-02 04:56:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4046875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For a decade, Thorin's only thought on how to avenge his family after a fire took their home and their coffers were drained. It nearly cost him his life, but when he and a friend were saved by a mysterious man, he decided he needed help...</p><p>Co-Authored by Netiri Vi Britannia</p><p>On Hiatus--will be updating again on 7/25 at the latest</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The four of them were blindfolded and their hands shackled. He hated it. He hated that the last thing he’d see would be Dwalin snarling like a wounded animal trying to show he was not afraid when, in fact, he was terrified. He guessed he looked much the same as he did.

The two others about to be executed were men neither Dwalin nor Thorin knew. Hapless souls or seasoned criminals, he didn’t know. They were led onto a wooden platform. He knew from the way it creaked under him and in the corner drum beats echoed in the air as a man read their crimes off a parchment scroll for the city to hear. 

“No!”

_Oh, Mahal, Dis!_

“No! Please! Not my brothers! Let me go! LET ME GO!!! THORIN!!!”

It was just her voice he heard among the other wailing sisters, wives, mothers…

Behind the blindfold, Thorin’s eyes welled with tears. He made Dis a promise. Him and Dwalin both promised they’d be careful. He just wanted to make everything right again. He wanted to get stop Smaug from destroying another family like he’d destroyed theirs by feeding off their grandfather’s greed and paranoia till there was nothing left save their family. And time, one by one, claimed their lives till Dis and Thorin were the only ones left.

He felt the itch of rope around his neck and he released a shaky breath…

“Oi! You! What do you think you’re doing?”

There was slicing, like a knife embedding in flesh. Screams from the crowd. Rope was cut and Thorin pulled the rope off his neck and the blindfold off.

The executioner and guards were dead—throats cut—and Smaug, was vanishing amidst an army of guards while others chased the man who saved them. Thorin could not see his face. All he saw was a white robe and cowl.

And no sooner had he seen the man did he vanish in the crowd.

“Let’s get out of here,” Dwalin hissed, pushing him off the podium. Thorin agreed and they were embraced by Dis.

“Don’t you _EVER_ do that again!” she wept, hiding her face in Thorin’s tunic, bonnet falling off her head to hang around her neck. Her black hair was coming undone from the bun she used. Thorin rubbed her back and glanced around. The cobblestone streets were wet with the soldiers' blood.

Who was the man in the cowl?

“Okay,” he said. It’s a little hard to disagree with something that would keep you alive when you almost die. “Let’s go home.” The three of them slipped away down an alley while Smaug’s guards raced by, hunting their savior.

“Who do you think that man was?” Dis whispered.

“Not a clue,” Dwalin said.

And maybe, Thorin wondered, that might be for the best.

#

Weeks passed and the terror he felt from the rope around his neck slowly eased away back into the grueling of his day to day life, working at the forges, getting burned by the fire to the point where it doesn’t bother him anymore. He’d just curse and grab the salve.

His hands were often suffering minor burns, but they were nothing to the burns on his back that came from the fire that had taken his family's lives, long healed, but still horrid to look at.

Dwalin hung up his apron. “Let’s get drinks,” he said. Thorin hummed.

“Sure.”

“Still monosyllabic? Mahal, you must have been more scared than I was.”

Thorin didn’t bother reminding him that he was rather monosyllabic since the fire and only relapsed when he was scared, angry, or indifferent. It took a lot to get him to say more than once word. Dis could, of course, but she was his sister and the only family he had left.

True, he had Dwalin and Balin, but that wasn’t the same. They weren’t family. He wasn’t close to them the way he was to Dis.

He hung his apron and followed Dwalin out of the forge. Dwalin wrapped an arm around his shoulders and led him to the pub. Thorin took a table while Dwalin procured their drinks. A flash of white caught his eyes and he turned toward it, almost jumping to his feet.

It was their savior. He didn’t expect to see him again and now…

Thorin stood and approached him, but as soon as he was close enough, he was moving out the door. The rational thing to do, Thorin knew, would be to go back to his table and leave the man alone. Thorin wasn’t exactly known for being rational, though, and continued his pursuit.

 But once outside, the man was gone and Thorin was about to let his disappointment go and head back in when a knife found its way under his chin.

“Why did you follow?”

“I…” Thorin swallowed. “I wanted to say thank you for saving my life and my friend’s.”

“That’s all?”

It was, but…

“No,” Thorin asked. “I want to know: could you teach me to do what you do?”

“Why?”

“So I can avenge my family,” he said, “Smaug killed them and took everything from us. It’s just me and my sister now.”

The man was silent. “I see. While we are certainly after the same person, lad…no.”

“I’ll keep finding you,” Thorin said.

“That I doubt.”

“I found Smaug.”

“And got caught.”

“Please. I need to avenge them.”

“I’ll deliver his head to you in the post,” the man said. “But if you think that what I do is for the sake of a vendetta, then you are unsuited to be my apprentice.”

“I can’t just sit idly by while others fight my battles for me,” Thorin said. “Please, I have to do this. I have to do this for my sister. She deserves better than what she has.”

“What she deserves,” the man said, “is her brother alive.”

“Tell me what I have to do,” Thorin said. “Tell me what I have to do to convince you.”

“Thorin?” The knife and the man vanished and Dwalin clapped his shoulder. “What are you doing out here? I’d been looking for you. You know what, never mind.” He pulled Thorin inside. “Let’s drink! To health! To the king! To your sister’s age-coming! Fine lass like Dis is bound to get a husband sooner rather than later.”

“Not you,” Thorin growled.

“Nope. Me? I’ll be standing by you flexing these cannon balls at the blokes stupid enough to come calling,” Dwalin said, flexing his biceps. Thorin arched a brow at him and Dwalin lowered his arms. “Okay, maybe I might, but think of it this way: would you _rather_ have some complete stranger courting your sister or your best friend? Be honest.”

“The inevitable fall out leads to a broken friendship as I will undoubtedly chose my sister over you any day of the week.”

“You’re sister is still a goddess in mortal form.”

“No she isn’t. She’s a Warg in woman form. You should know that.”

“And somehow I don’t care.”

“I will laugh and tell you I told you so when she shoves you out the door and you fall in the mud on your ass,” Thorin said.

“And I will never let you live it down if she accepts my suit,” Dwalin said.

A maid approached, handing Thorin another tankard of ale and a note. “From a gentleman,” she said before walking away. Thorin looked around, he wasn’t _that_ obvious, was he? He hoped not. Thorin bit his lip and read the note.

_Meet me at the Town Square at dawn tomorrow. Wear a cloak and hide your face. I’ll find you._

Thorin relaxed.

“Who are you meeting?” Dwalin asked.

“No one,” Thorin said, burning the note and finishing his ale.

#

Thorin glanced in Dis’ room to make sure she still slept. She did. He stepped away from the door and fixed the cloth that would hide his lower face over his mouth and nose before pulling the hood of his cloak over his head and left, shutting the door quietly behind him.

When he arrived at the Town Square, there was just a few minutes till sunrise…he looked around and saw no one.

With a sigh, Thorin sat at the fountain, slouched over. _Give it a little more time_ , he told himself.

“Thorin.”

He looked up to see Dwalin. “You followed!” He shot irately at him. Dwalin held his hands up in a show of placation. 

“Dis would kill me if I let you do something stupid alone.”

“She’d kill you for letting me do something stupid, period.”

“True,” Dwalin said. “What are you doing anyway?” Thorin pulled the mask off and sighed.

“I found the man who saved us and I talked to him last night. He sent me the ale and the note. I’m sure of it.”

“Uh-huh,” Dwalin said. “And if it’s a trap?” Thorin lowered his gaze. “Okay,” Dwalin sighed. “Come on. We’re going home—”

“Halt!”

They turned to the guards. Smaug’s guards. Thorin jumped up and fixed the mask over his face. They ran. The guards chased them, cutting off their exit routes.

“This way!” Dwalin shouted, pulling Thorin down an alley…

“Dead end!” Thorin shouted, as they hit the wall.

“Only if you want to go straight ahead.”

They looked up and Thorin ground his teeth.

“Climb,” the man Thorin had believed to be their savior ordered. “If you want to keep your freedom,” he said. “You’ll have to climb.”

Thorin and Dwalin glanced at each other. Thorin sighed and gripped between the bricks pushing himself up. Dwalin cursed and followed. The guards watched with amazement till someone shouted for an archer. Thorin’s arms ached and he was sweating beads. Dwalin wasn’t much better. The first arrow nearly got them to fall. Thorin pressed against the wall, frozen.

“Keep climbing,” the man said. “Otherwise you’ll be caught. They’ll kill you. And when they do, no help will come this time.”

Thorin looked at him, glaring. He forced himself to make the last stretch. Dwalin followed right behind and the both of them. Kept going even as the arrows kept flying. One skimmed Dwalin’s thigh as they made it to the top of the roof, panting. Dwalin pressed the wound with shaking hands and bleeding, blistered fingers.

“Fuck…”

“You’re not out of the woods yet,” the man said. “You have to run.”

“You blasted nut job!” Dwalin shouted. “There’s no where _to run_!” The man smirked under his hood and sprinted to the other end of the roof and jumped. Landing on the other roof gracefully. “Thorin,” Dwalin said. “Is this really worth it?”

Thorin bit his lip and stood, running after the man and jumping. His footing slipped, but he got back up. Behind him, Dwalin swore and followed after him.

 _It’s worth it,_ Thorin thought. _If this helps me avenge my family, it’s worth every ounce of pain._


	2. Chapter 2

Keeping up with the man proved more difficult than Thorin expected at the end after they had finally evaded the guards. He and Dwalin were sweaty and out of breath. Their muscles ached under their skin and the man leaned back in his seat drinking an ale.

“Drink,” he urged. “You need to keep hydrated. Both of you did well for novices.”

“We aren’t joining you,” Dwalin said.

“I am,” Thorin said. Dwalin stared at him.

"Have you gone mad?"

Thorin turned to him and wiped his brow with the back of his sleeve. “Dwalin, I need to do this. I can’t let Smaug do what he did to my family and get away with it.”

Dwalin leaned closer to him. Thorin tried not to wrinkle his nose at the smell of his sweat. “Your sister will kill you,” he whispered. "And we almost died for real following this man! What if it had been a set up?”

“But it wasn’t.”

“It kind of was.”

“Dwalin, I have tried everything possible before now. I don’t have the means or the power to take Smaug down.”

Dwalin rubbed the back of his neck. “This is madness.”

“I don’t care,” Thorin said. He turned back to the man. “Will you make us do any of that again?”

“Yes. Scaling walls, jumping roofs…that’s quite normal. Good way to avoid guards, pass through crowds…I will also teach you how to mold into your surroundings, to be missed and overlooked. You won’t be chased by the guards again till you’re ready and not, well,” he waved a hand at them.

_Take a pick._

Thorin leaned on the table. “Who are you?”

“Not so fast.”

“I am agreeing to this, even if my friend isn’t. He followed me out of concern, he has no obligation to join you. In fact, I would rather he not so that if anything were to happen to me, someone would be there to take care of my sister. But I chose to follow you and call you teacher or master. Whatever it is you insist I call you. But I need to do this.”

The man glanced at Dwalin. “So, will _you_ join your friend or will you go and take care of his sister?”

Dwalin rubbed the back of his neck again before glaring at Thorin. “I’m in. This idiot would get killed otherwise.”

“I will decide that. Who knows?” the man smirked. “The one more likely to get himself killed might be you.” Dwalin glowered at him while Thorin smiled around the rim of his cup. “There is one thing I want to make clear: if I am to take you on, both of you or one of you (I don’t care either way), you will have to do something for me. A favor of my own choosing. Agreed?”

“Yes,” Thorin said.

“Sure,” Dwalin sighed, lifting his own mug of ale to his lips.

The man stood. “Meet me at the Prancing Pony tomorrow morning. Tell your sister whatever you must, but _try_ not to rouse her suspicion.” Thorin and Dwalin exchanged pained looks. That would be harder than they thought. Dis was exceptionally sharp.

“All right,” Thorin said. Dwalin stared at him.

 _Are you mad?_ He seemed to say. _Do I need to take you to a doctor?_

“Good,” the man stood. “I’ll see you both tomorrow morning.” He finished his ale and pressed a couple gold coins on the table before he left. Dwalin smacked Thorin’s shoulder.

“Ow!” Thorin hissed, rubbing the appendage. “What was that for?”

“Have you lost your mind?” Dwalin growled. “Dis is going to kill us if she figures this out.”

“Maybe, but it doesn’t matter. I _have_ to avenge my family, Dwalin. You can walk away. I’m not backing out of this. I can’t afford to.” Dwalin huffed and leaned back, crossing his arms.

“Fine. I’m with you to the end, Thorin. I just hope you know what you’re doing.”

“I likely don’t,” Thorin admitted. “Still interested?”

“In keeping your fool head on its shoulders? Do I look I can face Dis if something happens to you? No. I’m joining you. I won’t deny I wish you’d just give up, but you’re my best mate. You’re not going down this path alone.”

Thorin nodded and exhaled. “Thank you, Dwalin.”

“Thank me later,” he said. “Help me think of what we’re going to tell Dis.”

“Only thing coming to mind is a new job out of town. Hopefully we’ll be able to send money her way…”

Thorin blanched. That would be important…

#

Dis took it as well as expected.

That is, not well at all. “You’re going after Smaug again, aren’t you?” she accused. Thorin held his hands up and Dwalin hid behind him.

“No,” Thorin said.

“Definitely not,” Dwalin agreed.

Telling her the truth would just get them killed.

Thorin was certain of that. He exhaled. “Dis, this is a good opportunity. We’ll be back and we’ll send money in the meantime, but…” What does he say?

“I know you’re lying.”

“Maybe a little,” he admitted, “But I promise we’re not going after Smaug again.” _Not for a while, though_. Dis crossed her arms and glared at him. “I promise we’ll be careful. We’ll write as often as we can, but the particulars of what we’re going to do…we can’t tell you. I’m sorry. I wish I could. All I can say is that we’ll be careful and we’ll be back soon.”

“I hope you know what you’re doing, Thorin. We’ve lost enough, haven’t we? I don’t want to lose you, too.”

“You won’t,” he said.

Dwalin cleared his throat. “If you don’t feel comfortable living on your own, you could stay with Balin.” Dis nodded. “In fact, I should probably…yeah. I got to go talk to my brother.”

“Come back in one piece,” Thorin said. Dwalin sent him a rude gesture and left. He turned to Dis, who had crossed her arms and now glared at him as if he was a naughty child rather than her big brother. “We don’t leave until tomorrow morning,” he said. “So…please, Dis? I will write as often as I can. Every day if I can manage.”

“Paper’s expensive, Thorin.”

“Whenever I can afford it, then,” he said. “But Dwalin and I will be okay, I promise.”

“The last time you promised to be careful, you got a noose wrapped around your neck.”

“I will be more careful than ever before,” he said. “Please, Dis? Do you trust me?”

“No,” she said. “I don’t. So you better prove me wrong about whatever mad venture you’re off to next. And I’ll stay with Balin,” she said. “But if you leave tomorrow then I want to spend the rest of today with you.” Thorin smiled.

“I think I can do that,” he said. Thorin held his hand out to Dis and bowed. “And where does my lady wish to go?”

“The docks,” she said. “Let me grab my cloak and we’ll go. You owe me, Thorin. I’ve half a mind to stop you from going.”

“Ah,” Thorin said. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying not to wince at his sore muscles. She linked her arm around his and they left.

The walk to the docks was quiet save for the buzz of people around them and the shops. Dis stopped them at a couple stalls, buying food for them. At the docks, she leaned against the rail and closed her eyes. Thorin stood beside her staring at the oceans beat against the wood and stone.

Sailors shot out orders and belted chanties as they worked, shuffling cargo and the like around. Thorin leaned against the rail with his hand in his chin, wishing there was something—anything—he could tell his sister.

This time it would not be enough to assure her he loved her, that he was doing this for her, to give her a better life—the life she deserved to have, which Smaug ripped from her when she was barely old enough to understand that she was a lady of standing, deserving of wanting for nothing, who ought to have princes and lords vying for her hand, not dock workers or sailors or guards.

Had Smaug not come and destroyed everything, Dis would be recognized as the granddaughter of Lord Thror, as she deserved. She vowed she was content, but Thorin hated how there were still nights where she was too cold or too hungry.

True, things got better the older Thorin got, but it didn’t make it easier to bear.

“Here,” Dis said, handing him a loaf of bread. “You better come home as often as possible, Thorin. Otherwise I swear to Mahal I will hunt you down and skewer you within the year.”

Thorin snorted. “I’ll come home. With Dwalin, at that. You’ll wonder if we work at all, given how often we visit.”

“Here’s to hoping,” she said. “There’s really nothing I can do to change your mind?”

Thorin shook his head. “I have to do this, Dis. I have to.”

“We don’t have to do anything,” she said. “We might not have the life we were born into, but it’s a far cry from what it was in the beginning. We aren’t starving anymore. We aren’t on the streets. Our wounds aren’t that bad.”

His back.

Her legs.

“They’re far from perfect, but…well, we’re alive. We have shelter. We can get clothes and food. I don’t see what we’re missing out? Underestimating how good we’d have it? Lavishing in luxuries we don’t need? I don’t think we’re missing out on anything.”

“It’s not about that.”

“I don’t want revenge. That’s just you. I don’t remember any of it, Thorin. I don’t remember grandfather. Not the way you do. So really, I don’t think it’s worth it. You’re not doing me any favors going after Smaug. Don’t try to hide it. Whatever you’re doing, it has to do with Smaug. I know that. If I can’t stop you, then I’m not going to try.”

Thorin looked away.

“I just wish you would appreciate what we do have, Thorin, rather than chase after the past and cover it up by saying it’s for me.”

He hadn’t a clue what to say to her. Thorin wished he did have something to say. But all he could bring out was a quiet: “I’ll be careful,” which was ignored.

#

Dwalin and Thorin met the man outside the Prancing Pony, bags slung over their shoulders and their cloaks clasped around their throats. The man hummed, arms crossed over his shoulder. “Come with me,” he said, leading them down an alley and into a house.

He lowered his hood and looked at them. He was old, but not so old that he was withered. There was strength in his stance and wisdom in his eyes coupled with mischievousness that had likely been prevalent in his youth. His hair clearly used to be dark and perhaps curly, but now there was a receding hairline and a wispy beard along his chin. He was shorter than both of them, but Thorin knew that his height had nothing to do with his strength.

“From here on, you may address me as Gerontius in private,” he said. “In public, I am called the Thain of the Assassins.”

_Assassin?!_

“Like you two, I have been hunting Smaug in hopes of finding the man who killed my daughter, but you should know that, as assassins, we have one main purpose: to fight for justice and temper equality. Our enemy, of whom Smaug was _once_ a part of, is the Ring.”

“What?”

The Ring?

The society of knights? What had they done to gain such enmity with a man such as this?

“Our goals are aligned then,” Thorin said.

“I don’t want to kill Smaug,” Gerontius said. “Not yet. I need him. The Ring has someone that is important to me and if all goes well, you will help me retrieve him. I cannot guarantee that he knows the truth, but that is the favor I want from you both.”

“Done,” Thorin said. Dwalin nodded. “When do we start?”

Gerontius smirked.


	3. Chapter 3

Training with the assassins, Thorin noticed, had specific focuses.

Strength was the most obvious. Every day the sun rose, he and Dwalin would be sent to a weight room, building muscles they hadn’t realized they had. Following that was agility, which had somehow been guised as footmen training, running beside coaches to keep them from falling into ditches…And when they traveled when no one was around, Gerontius would stick his head out, smirking and urge them to try and jump _onto_ the carriage and climb inside. Stealth was the third focus. Blending into your surroundings so not to be seen or noticed. Thorin and Dwalin had worried about that. They were pretty big compared to Gerontius who was not only slighter of frame but also smaller than both of them by a head.

Dwalin made the mistake one night of wondering if he could take their mentor and win. Gerontius locked his head in a headlock with a dagger pressed to his throat and the lesson that size does not matter among assassins was duly learned and Dwalin kept his mouth shut about Gerontius’ size after that.

Thorin wrote Dis as often as he could and once a month, he and Dwalin would visit her and Balin. Their siblings were suspicious and worried simultaneously and often asked after what these new jobs actually entailed.

“And don’t tell us you’re footmen,” Balin snapped. “Footmen begin training young. Younger than _Dis_. So we know you aren’t that.”

“Well, that’s what we are,” Dwalin snapped at his brother.

The problem with smart siblings is that they don’t by your lies.

“Who’s your employer again?” Balin asked.

“Gerontius Took,” Thorin said. His heart skipped a beat at that admission and prayed that he wouldn’t feel Gerontius’ wrath for it. Satisfied, Balin ceased questioning and Dis turned away to finish making lunch.

Dwalin turned to him. Thorin smiled weakly and slouched in his seat. “Let’s hope he doesn’t kill you,” Dwalin hissed. Thorin couldn’t even come up with a witty retort at that. It was true. If he had done something he shouldn’t, Gerontius may very well kill him and there would be nothing Thorin could do to stop it.

Dis set the food before them. “You know he’s going to look into it, right?” They nodded.

Balin was a lawyer. Of course he’d look into it. Not to say that Balin couldn’t hold his own. He could. In fact, when Thorin and Dwalin first became friends, Balin had just finished his apprenticeship and took him and Dis in when they lost their father the previous winter.

He was stern, but protective and when Thorin and Dis were able to leave, he had tried to insist that they didn’t need to. In the end, they did move out, but kept close. Sometimes Thorin wondered if Balin hated him. Especially lately. He did almost get his little brother executed with his need to avenge what happened to his family. If he did, he never said. And if he were to find out that they were training to become assassins…

“Help me set the table rather than be the lazy arses you are,” Dis snapped from the stove. “And it’s five spots today.”

“Why?” Dwalin asked.

“Balin’s apprentice is joining us for lunch.” Thorin and Dwalin exchanged looks before setting the table. A nervous knock at the door had Dwalin heading to the door to admit said apprentice.

“Um, is this Mr. Balin’s house?”

“Aye,” Dwalin said gruffly.

Thorin cleared his throat and Dwalin looked at him. He stepped aside and the young man entered. He was lanky of frame and visibly twitchy with the way he fiddled with the knit gloves he wore. His red hair was cut short atop his head. His clothes almost seemed too big for his frame. And Dwalin wouldn’t stop staring.

Thorin set the last plate down and nudged him. “Cute isn’t he?”

“Shut it,” Dwalin hissed, blushing.

“I’m just saying.”

“Well, _don’t_.”

Dis had already engaged him in a conversation while Dwalin turned bright red and scowling at Thorin helplessly. Thorin patted his shoulder and cleared his throat, extending his hand to the lad and introducing himself as Dis’ brother.

“I’m Ori,” he replied.

Despite how nervous he looked, he had a firm grip. “That’s Dwalin,” Thorin said, pointing at Dwalin and smirking. “Balin’s little brother.”

“He did say he had a brother,” Ori admitted, arms loosening around his satchel and setting it down on a chair. “I don’t realize he had two, though. Nor did he mention a sister.”

“We’re not actually Balin’s relatives,” Dis said. “Thorin and Dwalin are best friends and we had lived here till Thorin was old enough to work, so in a way, you could say we’re his siblings.” 

Ori hummed as Dis set the table. Balin returned with an envelope in hand. “Good to see you, Ori,” he said, patting Ori’s shoulder. “Met everyone I see? Good! Dwalin, what are you doing in the corner?”

“Uh…”

He was still beet red. Thorin was going to have fun with this. So, _so_ much fun!

“Get over here and let’s eat. Unless you’re not feeling well…”

“Yeah, I’m…not.”

“Yeah, you look a bit bothered,” Thorin said. He couldn’t help himself. Dwalin glared and Dis smacked the back of his head.

“I think I’ll just go to bed. Not that hungry.”

The agility training they’ve had must be working for Dwalin to leave that quickly. Balin pinched the bridge of his nose and Thorin leaned over to Ori.

“Don’t worry about it. Give it a little time, maybe he’ll learn to talk to you.” Now Ori was blushing and refused to look up from his plate. Dis looked torn between punching Thorin and conspiring with him. He hoped she’d conspire. Balin cleared his throat. “How about we eat and leave the poor lad alone?”

“Fine,” Thorin huffed. Dis laughed and Ori refused to meet anyone’s eyes for several minutes.

#

“I didn’t know you fancied men,” Thorin said once he and Dwalin were alone.

“I like both men and women. What of it?” He glared at him. “Are you going to tell me that I have to choose?”

Thorin shook his head. “I prefer the male sex myself. It matters little to me who you prefer to bed, man or women, I will not judge.”

Dwalin sighed and sat up. “Thanks, mate.”

“Think nothing of it,” Thorin said. “I would have liked to know that sooner, though. It would have saved me an abundance of fear.”

“Dis knows, doesn’t she?”

“She does.” Sometimes, in private, they talked about such and such a lad. True, Thorin would protect Dis’ virtue with his life, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t tease his little sister. Or, for that matter, his best friend.

“You know, I had suspected as much, given that you never spoke of lasses, nor shown interest when I pointed a particularly good looking one out.”

Thorin shrugged. “So, Ori.” He smirked. “Small and ginger tickle your fancy?”

“Stuff it.”

“I’ve never seen you act that way around anyone! You’re usually rather suave.”

“So I can’t be nervous or tongue tied? It happens.”

“Yes. To _me_. Not to you. I’ve _never_ seen it happen to you. Ori must look like a god in your eyes.” Thorin grinned. “You should ask him to have a drink with you.”

“And has he told you he fancies men? No? I’m not risking it!”

“Are you sure?”

“It’s not just heart break I’m risking, Thorin.”

“True,” He said. “Doesn’t mean we should give up just because we happen to like those of the same sex as us. I’d risk it if I found someone worth risking for.”

Dwalin stared at him. “Have you?”

“Not yet.”

They sat in silence for a few moments. Thorin stood. “I’m going to the docks with Dis.”

“What’s her fascination with the docks?”

“She likes the sea.”

“Or she likes a sailor,” Dwalin said, smirking. Thorin wasn’t sure he liked that. A sailor? For his sister? Absolutely not! She was a lady, even if they had no money and a ruined reputation. She deserved a lord. At least.

“You know, some sailors _are_ nobles,” Dwalin said. “Maybe she likes someone in the king’s navy.” One could hope. Thorin left the room and met Dis outside. Balin and Ori were talking over a case or something. They left together and Dis hummed a song under her breath. He was certain she loved the sea. Not a sailor.

“Um, there’s someone I want to introduce you to, Thorin.”

“Who?”

Dis was blushing. “You’ll see when we get there.”

_Someone? Oh, God, it better not be a sailor. If it’s a sailor, I’m putting my foot down._ “You know I’ll just pester you till you tell me.”

“But I _will_ tell you. Please, brother. Just be patient?”

“Fine. Should I be worried?”

Dis was silent. “Maybe.”

_It better not be a sailor._


	4. Chapter 4

The person in question had been a lad slightly older than Dis. His blond hair was cut short and he had a bit of a beard growing on his chin, but it was a sparse thing. Barely there.

Admittedly, he was quite handsome in that almost-full-grown sort of way.

He had a bouquet of flowers in his hand and when Dis broke away from Thorin to approach the lad, shouting his name, Thorin’s gut curled with a feeling akin to anger and perhaps a little bit of jealousy. She wrapped her arm around the youth’s bicep and pulled him over to Thorin.

The lad had every reason to look nervous as Thorin stared at him. He himself probably looked angrier than he felt, of course. Dis cleared her throat. “Thorin, this is Víli,” she said, blushing.

Víli cleared his throat and shifted the bouquet to the other hand and held out his newly freed hand. “It’s an honor to meet you, Thorin. Dis had wanted us to meet sooner, but…”

“You’re courting my sister?” he growled. “And you hadn’t the thought to talk to me first?”

“I would have, Sir, and I am now,” Víli said, gulping.

Dis bit her lip and tightened her grip on Víli’s arm. She was giving Thorin the same look she gave him when she found that puppy after they lost their parents. He had known Balin would say no, but damn it, he couldn’t deny Dis when she had that look. He was quite certain she knew it too.

That puppy, by the way, they managed to hide it with Dwalin’s help for almost a week before Balin found out about it. They begged and cried and eventually the managed to keep it alive for a couple years before it met its end at three years old by getting run over a carriage.

“It was never my intention to slight her family and I have already met Mr. Balin a couple times. He gave me permission to court her in your stead till your return, so…”

“I see.”

He arched a brow at Dis who smiled. Well, knowing her, she did love him. He still believed she deserved someone who could take care of her financially and at least restore her to who she deserves to be. But overall, it was more important that she be happy.

And she was still young. There was a chance this courtship wouldn’t last. He ran his hand through his hair. “It’s not like I can tell her no,” he said. Dis beamed. “And if Balin approved of you, then I suppose you can’t be all bad for a sailor.”

“Aye, my family’s been sailors for generations. My father’s the captain of the Firestorm, there,” he pointed out a good ship. “Part of his majesty’s navy, Sir.”

“So I take it you’ve been sailing long?”

“Just been named and Able Bodied Sailor, Sir.”

“You don’t have to be so formal with him,” Dis said. “It should be all right to call him ‘Thorin’ now, _right_?”

“If he wishes,” Thorin sighed. “See what I mean? Mind of her own?”

“Don’t I know it?” Víli said, beaming at her. “Been on that ship since I was ten and worked my way up. My father doesn’t believe in special treatment. He wants me to earn the position of captain on my own, but we’ll never know, you see, since that position is elected by the government.”

“Is it?”

“We aren’t pirates. They do things a little differently, you see.”

“I never insinuated that you were!” Thorin snapped.

Víli smiled. “I’m aware, but you’ve got a bit of a stink eye.”

“You’re courting my little sister: my last living relative,” Thorin said, crossing his arms. “I think I earned the right to be wary.”

“And I am honored that you are giving me this chance.”

“By right I shouldn’t. Dis has told you who we are.”

“Yes, she has. Balin explained your situation. I don’t care about that. I don’t care if you think I’m not worthy because I’m not nobility nor have the kind of wealth your family _used_ to have. I love her. Is that not enough for you?” Víli asked.

Well then, now the pleasantries were slipping away. Good.

“Perhaps it’s a common misconception, but I have a hard time believing that sailors can be faithful husbands,” Thorin said. “Let alone faithful lovers. There is also a possibility that you could be lost at sea or die there and we wouldn’t have any way of knowing for months.”

“That may be true for many of the men I’ve worked with. I’ll admit that, but I am _not_ like them. I love Dis. I would not—”

Thorin held his hand up. “I do not know you and you cannot vouch for your own character. You want to convince me then I’d have to meet with the crew you work with.”

Víli shook his head, “You’re a very distrustful man.”

“You are courting my sister. I think I have every right to be distrustful of anyone who vies for her hand. For now, I’ll allow you and Dis to court,” Thorin said. “But I promise you, by Mahal, if you hurt her, there will be nowhere you can hide nor run.” He turned to Dis. “And you _better_ know what you’re doing?”

“More than you,” she said, smirking. She kissed Víli’s cheek. “I told you he’d like you.”

Thorin sputtered at that, staring at Dis. He did _not_ like Víli! He didn’t even know him well enough to even _have_ an opinion of him! Other than what he just said. But Dis was right. Thorin expected he’d have punched Víli otherwise. Dis grinned at him.

“Maybe you and Víli should get to know each other a bit? Talk? I’m sure you’ll be less unsure if you talk to him, Thorin. Please?”

“Do I have a choice or are you just offering?”

“Just offering.”

“Then, by all means, lead on,” he said, glaring at Víli, who glared back. Oh, yeah. Dis was mad if she thought they, in any way, were going to like each other. Thorin could see him tolerating Víli. And that was best case scenario.

#

The following night, Thorin and Dwalin returned to the Took household. Men and women ran in and out of rooms. He could guess there was something going on worth preparing for...but for what, Thorin hadn’t a clue and a glance at Dwalin assured him he wasn’t the only one in the dark. He was also assured that they’d find out when they saw their master’s wife approach them with a smile on her face.

“Good to see you home, lads,” she greeted, embracing them. “Gerontius is waiting in the study. He’ll fill you in on tomorrow’s event in there.” With that she walked past them. They went to the study and found Gerontius hovering over some papers.

“About time you returned,” he said without looking up. “Close the door and we’ll talk.” Once done, Gerontius looked up. “A Knight of the Ring is visiting us with his apprentice and ward.” He handed Dwalin the paper and Thorin looked over his shoulder.

“Sméagol Stoor isn’t high up the list. If he is known anywhere, it is by the name ‘Gollum.’ Not very close to the inner circle, but still something. I don’t want him dead. Not now.”

“Why not? If he’s part of the Ring and we—” He held his hand up, cutting Dwalin off.

“His ward is why. He’s my grandson.” They silenced. Was it not his grandson who they had agreed to find the fate of? Likely that would change now. Gerontius cleared his throat. “This is just observing for now. Finding out what Bilbo knows and how deep in our enemy’s grasp he is.”

Thorin glanced at Gerontius. It must be hard, knowing you’re about to see a family member who you hadn’t seen in years nor knew if they lived.

 “I want you to mingle. You’ll be unnoticeable. Consider this a test. Don’t draw attention to yourselves. Nor are you to interfere if things turn for the worst.” He swallowed. “My wife doesn’t know about this yet. She doesn’t know about Bilbo coming here. I will tell her later tonight, but I don’t want her making this into a welcome home party when it’s not. He’s not coming home. Not yet. Who knows how many lies he’d been fed?”

He breathed deeply. “Is this clear enough?”

“Yes sir,” they said.

“His aunts and uncles will not be present, but once this…dinner is done with I will let them know what we discover. You’re dismissed.”

Thorin and Dwalin left and glanced at each other before going to bed. Dwalin slept peacefully, but Thorin tossed and turned through the night, unable to calm down and the fear that he’d fuck up this impromptu test deep in his thoughts. And there was also the matter of this grandson himself. How old was he? How much of the truth does he know? Probably very little…

#

The following night, Thorin and Dwalin stood with the other footmen as Sméagol Stoor and his ward arrived. Lady Took was oddly silent, continuously staring at the young man beside Stoor. He was…

He was breathtaking, if Thorin was honest. He had inherited his family’s mop of curly hair, a bronze glint in the dim light and eyes the shade of green apples. His skin was dotted with freckles, suggesting he spent a lot of time in the sun despite being raised nobility.

When Sméagol introduced him, it was as his heir and ward.

Bilbo Baggins.

Dwalin elbowed Thorin in the ribs. “I know he’s good looking, but pay attention.”

Thorin glared at him, but took a breath and schooled his face into a neutral mask as dinner was served. Bilbo glanced at him once and a faint blush lit his cheeks and his eyes scanned Thorin quickly before turning away.

Thorin fought down the smug smile threatening to rise as Sméagol discussed new ale trades south of their borders. Trading with the Gondorians, if he understood right. Bilbo barely spoke, save a time or two to correct Stoor’s information, earning a laugh and a squeeze to his shoulder.

“Keeps this old mind on track, he does,” Stoor praised.

“I hear a healthy diet does the same,” Gerontius said. “Plenty of vegetables, you know.”

“Of course. Still, he’s a sharp one, my Bilbo. Quick as a whip and no small talent with one. Fine soldier he’ll be one day.”

Gerontius looked pale and the corner of his mouth twitched. “Really? I had heard you were in some way affiliated with the Ring, but I had thought they were rumors.”

“It is,” Bilbo said. “We’re but humble merchants, Sir. Same as you. But I have been considering joining the king's guard.” Gerontius hummed and the next course arrived. Bilbo glanced at Thorin again and smirked. Well, this wasn’t going to go well. When he and Dwalin had pulled away, Dwalin stepped on his foot.

 _Stop flirting_.

At least he hoped that was the message that climbed up his foot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://www.thepirateking.com/historical/ship_roles.htm


	5. Chapter 5

Thorin set the last dish on the drying rack with a sigh. Bilbo’s visage plagued his mind as he worked, driving him to distraction. He almost dropped a plate twice if not for Dwalin. “Will you pull your head out of the clouds already?”

“Sorry,” Thorin mumbled sheepishly.

“You know he’s part of the Ring, right? He likely knows who we are and is messing with you.”

Thorin pretended that that didn’t sting as much as it did as he finished washing the dishes. “And if he’s not?”

“It wouldn’t matter. He’s the Master’s _grandson_ , even if he doesn’t know it. You really think Gerontius would let you court Bilbo?”

No, he likely wouldn’t.

A servant tapped his shoulder, telling him that Bilbo wanted to see him. Dwalin narrowed his eyes and Thorin sighed. “I’ll behave myself.”

“Here’s hoping,” Dwalin said.

Thorin followed them to Bilbo’s room. He had not been under the impression that Stoor would be staying, but it gave them more chances to find out what he’s up to and what he is using Bilbo for…

The servant left him at a door and Thorin cleared his throat before knocking. “Come in.” Thorin swallowed and entered the room. Bilbo looked at him and grinned. “I had hoped it’d be you, Thorin Durin.”

Thorin paled. “How…”

“It’s not hard to recognize someone from noble blood. Especially if they look like the copy of another. You look much like your grandfather did when he was young.”

“So you know who I am,” Thorin said.

“I do. Funny how you’ve been brought low enough to be a servant in a merchant’s house,” he said. “I can help you get revenge and restore you and yours to their former glory.”

Thorin hummed. “And what do you want in return for this…this friendship?”

Bilbo approached him and kissed him, running his fingers through Thorin’s beard. Thorin melted into the kiss, almost swaying. He smelled like fresh bread and honey, sweet and warm and he tasted like the sauce that was on the glazed chicken served at dinner and sweet wine.

The hand moved to the back of Thorin’s head and shivers crawled up his spine. His fingers flexed with the urge to grip Bilbo’s hips and pull him closer…

_You really think Gerontius would let you court Bilbo?_

He took Bilbo’s shoulders and pushed him back, clearing his throat. “I’m…I’m flattered, really. But I don’t think this is the sort of relationship I can have with you. I’m sorry. Thank you for the offer, though.” With that, Thorin fled the room and went to the servant’s quarters. Dwalin had waited for him in the hallway and arched a brow. “He knows about Smaug,” he said. “Offered to help me avenge my family and even restore our glory, but…”

“But?”

Thorin blushed. “Uh…”

“He didn’t do anything to hurt you, did he?” Dwalin snarled. Thorin shook his head.

“Just a kiss,” he said. “I told him no.” He walked past Dwalin and paused turning to the wall and banging his head against it. “Am I a fool?”

“No. Anyone who offers a deal like that isn’t someone you can feasibly trust,” Dwalin said. “Aye, he’s very pretty, but so is a fox. Besides: if Gerontius finds out you kissed Bilbo,” he shuddered. “I don’t want to think what he’d do to you.”

“Fear not.” They jumped, seeing their master sneak out of the shadows. “You made the right decision,” he said, patting Thorin’s shoulder. “Under other circumstances, I would not mind it. I’ve a brother who fancied lads himself, and a daughter who had a lady lover at one point. It’s nothing new to me. Besides, the two of you are so blatantly obvious it’s more sad than funny. For a while, I thought you were together.”

Thorin shuddered. “No. There is _no way_ we’d be interested in each other.”

“Not at all. We’re like brothers.”

“Close brothers.”

“Aye. Nope.”

“And yet you’ve no problem bringing up how pretty Thorin’s sister is—I heard you the night I met Thorin.” Dwalin blushed and coughed. Gerontius laughed. “Relax, lads. Tell me what you discerned. Other than how pretty my grandson is.” They did so. Dwalin, who had actually been able to pay attention, had the majority of the information. And Thorin discerned that if Bilbo knew who they were, he likely meant to trick Thorin into telling him their own secrets.

Gerontius agreed, impressed. “Would you say Bilbo might be a part of the Ring?”

“It’s likely,” Dwalin said, crossing his arms. “How far up, though, is another matter. Same as who he is among them.”

Gerontius hummed. “Thorin, do you think you could find out?”

“Me?!” Thorin sputtered.

“Well, Bilbo seemed to like you.”

“And I just rejected him,” Thorin said. “I doubt he’ll let me that close again.” He still somewhat regretted that, despite knowing it was the right thing to do.

“You need not find out by toying with him,” Gerontius said. “In fact I’d rather you _not_. You have other skills, lad, that are just as useful as seduction.” Thorin nodded. That was fair. It wasn’t love anyway. Just lust. It would pass given a little time.

#

He kept to the shadows and the rooftops as he followed Bilbo into town. He visited the bookshop and a food stall, munching on a pastry as he read the new book. Strapped to his waist was a short sword. He glanced over his shoulder a couple times, but for the most part, Thorin remained out of sight, even if Bilbo sensed him. Thorin sort of felt like a creep following Bilbo around, but work was work and he needed to find something to report to Gerontius.

Bilbo disappeared into a church and Thorin followed, mingling with the monks as Bilbo approached one of the bishops. Thorin moved closer. “Tomorrow,” Bilbo whispered. “Be ready.”

The bishop nodded. “We will be. Hail Sauron.”

“Hail Sauron.”

_Who is Sauron?_

Bilbo turned to leave and paused. Thorin dove behind a pillar and watched Bilbo look around. He shook his head and left the church. Thorin followed him down an alley—he jumped back just as some sort of whip nearly cut his throat. He gasped, rubbing his throat. Bilbo approached, his sword-whip dragging on the ground. He didn’t look carefree and flirtatious now. No. Far from it. This was anger and determination mingled together. Many times had Thorin seen it on his own face when he looked in the mirror.

He couldn’t exactly say he was surprised to see it on Bilbo’s. Bilbo swung the whip back and snapped his wrist. The blade nearly hit Thorin’s shoulder as he dodged. He didn’t want to kill Bilbo, but he needed to incapacitate him or, at least, find an escape route. He dodged again, scaling the wall. Bilbo snarled and his whip just barely scratched Thorin’s calf. He ground his teeth and jumped onto the roof.

He ripped his shirt sleeve and made a quick bandage around the wound before racing back to Gerontius’ house. If he went a little slower than usual, well, no one needed to know. His wound stung and he prayed the bandage would hold…

#

 _When did I fall asleep?_ Thorin thought, groaning. He was sore and tired and everything hurt.

“Stay down,” Gerontius said, gently pushing on his shoulders. “You’re lucky this wasn’t deeper.”

“What happened?”

“You passed out, fell off a roof. You’re lucky you’re not dead. Relax. Tell me what you found out.”

Thorin licked his lips. “He visited a bishop in town. Something is going to happen tomorrow. They mentioned someone named ‘Sauron’.”

Gerontius hummed.

“I don’t know when or how Bilbo realized I was following him, but I think he knew since before the church. He tricked me and caught me following him. He has this weapon. It’s like a sword but it’s a whip. I’ve never seen a weapon like that.”

Gerontius sighed. “I know who he is to the Ring. And it explains Gollum’s strange pride in him. Bilbo is a certain knight, higher up the ladder. He uses a special weapon. He is a Knight of the Ring called Sting.”

“Okay,” Thorin said. “But I was certain I was careful.”

“You were. Sting has a certain specialty. He’s very perceptive of when he’s being followed and he will find out who it is, usually by luring the stalker or whoever into the open and he attacks them. He killed one of my sons who had gone after him before. Hildifons was dismembered. His arms and legs were cut off before his head.” He scoffed and moved away from Thorin. Thorin sat up, wincing. Gerontius held his head in his hands. “To think that my grandson killed his uncle so brutally!” He huffed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re lucky to be alive, Thorin. Sting is a brutal killer. According to the files I have on him, he joined the Ring five years ago. I expected him to be so much older…” Thorin looked away, focusing on his hands instead. “I will go tomorrow. If anyone asks, you fell. Do not mention that you were attacked to anyone.”

“Yes, sir.”

Gerontius stood and straightened his weskit. “Someone will be in with food for you later. Eat and replenish your strength.” With that he left, shoulders sagged and head bowed like a man defeated. Thorin laid back down. He couldn’t imagine what sort of betrayal Gerontius felt. He couldn’t fathom that sort of heartbreak. A few minutes later, there was a knock at the door and Thorin sat up as it opened. His heart skipped a beat when Bilbo entered with a tray of food, grinning.

“I heard you had an accident.”

“I thought you’d not want to see me again after…”

He shrugged and set the tray on the table. “I’m not offended,” he said. Sitting on the end of the bed. “I know how you looked at me last night. I know you liked kissing me. I also understand the desire _not_ to impugn your master’s honor. As it is, I am leaving soon and I wanted to tell you that. And that my offer still stands if you change your mind.”

“Oh.”

Bilbo squeezed his hand and stood. “Perhaps we’ll meet again, Thorin. But until then,” he kissed Thorin’s cheek. “Get better soon.” He left and Dwalin stepped in. Once the door closed he turned to Thorin.

“Still flirting with him? Even _after_ he tried to kill you?”

“I don’t think he knows we’re assassins,” he said. “At the very least, I think he does actually like me.” He sighed. “It’s my luck that I find a like-minded man who is interested in me and he’s on the enemy’s side.”

“Well, it makes me more grateful for Ori. At least I know he won’t try to kill me.”

“Can we _not_ worry about that—what are you doing?”

“Getting you new food,” Dwalin said. “We might not know if he knows, but I’m not taking any chances.” Thorin sighed.

“Okay. But be quick. I’m starving.”

“Sure, your highness.”


	6. Chapter 6

Dwalin told him how Stoor’s and Bilbo’s departure went. The goodbye was, as expected, cordial. Thorin couldn’t say he was surprised that Adamanta broke down when they had left and needed to be guided back inside. Gerontius hadn’t been seen since he and Adamanta returned to the house. He couldn’t imagine what it must be like in their position.

It must hurt…he wouldn’t know what he’d do if he learned that someone he loved and lost was alive, well, and on the enemy’s side, likely lied to their entire life…

When he was able to walk again, a few days later, Gerontius had him doing exercises that focused more on his good leg rather than his injured one. Balance, acrobatics that several months ago would have seemed impossible, and whatever else could be done that wouldn’t put stress on his injury or reopen it. Even the chores were less grueling so he wouldn’t set back his healing.

He wrote Dis about his accident, leaving out the main details and substituting his fall from a building to down the stairs. And, as predicted, he received a scathing letter from her about staying safe lest he want her to visit just to kick his arse like he so deserves.

Dwalin laughed as the letter was read aloud and Gerontius managed to smile for the first time since Bilbo and Stoor visited.

#

Gerontius stared at them, arms crossed, after another day of training. He smirked.

“You’ve done well. I believe you’re ready for your final test.”

Thorin straightened his back. Pride swelled in his chest.

“It is time for your first kill.” Gerontius handed Thorin a piece of paper. Sméagol’s face had been etched on it. They looked at him.

“Are you sure?”

“I am sure,” he said, lip curling into a snarl. “Kill Gollum and I will aid you in killing Smaug.”

Thorin glanced at Dwalin, who shrugged.

“Then we will do so,” he said. “But may I ask one thing.” Gerontius arched a brow at him. Thorin sucked in a breath. “What drives you to kill Smaug?”

Gerontius sighed and sat down, waving at the other chairs in the room. They sat down and watched him, waiting for whatever tale would be told. With a sigh, Gerontius began:

“When Bilbo was just a babe, hardly two years old, the Ring decided to weaken my resolve through murdering my daughter—Bilbo’s mother. Belladonna was an excellent assassin and an even better mother and wife. Her husband hadn’t a clue what she was, so he didn’t know she could defend herself. Smaug slaughtered him first, an easy kill. Belladonna, I’m sure, gave him a little hell before she, too, was slaughtered and their remains burned.

“We never found Bilbo and he certainly isn’t in Smaug’s care now, but I can’t say what had actually happened. My best guess is that Smaug intended to raise Bilbo as his own and use him against me. If such is the case, then the Ring didn’t agree with him and gave him to Sméagol to raise instead. Of course, all that is simply speculation.”

Thorin hummed, leaning back in his seat. “But despite being part of the Ring, Bilbo seems happy and healthy. Why do you want Sméagol dead?”

“I have told you. This is your test. Any personal reason I have I will keep to myself,” Gerontius said. “Now go get ready. I expect the deed to be done before dawn.” Thorin and Dwalin stood and bowed. “Dwalin, I would like a moment before you go. Thorin go on ahead. He’ll join you eventually.”

Thorin arched a brow and Dwalin shrugged. “Go on. I’ll catch up.”

“All right. Don’t take too long.”

Thorin closed the door behind him and went to change. He glanced at the scar Bilbo had left him before dressing. How would Bilbo react to his guardian and mentor being killed? It felt like a vendetta of a sorts rather than a sort of rescue mission. Or was it revenge? Would Gerontius punish his own grandson so horridly?

Well, Bilbo did kill one of his uncles…perhaps…

Thorin shook his head. There was no justification for what he did. To add, they don’t know enough about Bilbo’s life from the time his parents died to now.

Who knows how corrupt he is?

And what of what he thinks and knows?

How many lies had he swallowed?

Such thoughts and inquiries were put aside when he donned the blue hood, hiding his face.

“You look good.” Thorin turned to Dwalin. “Just so you know, Gerontius wants you to do this on your own. He gave me a separate assignment. Can’t talk about it, though.”

“Okay. I should be fine.”

“Will you?”

“I don’t feel like I have a choice. I have to do this. Besides,” Thorin tested his vambraces, inspecting the daggers hidden inside them. “Bilbo isn’t anything to me save a dream.”

#

Thorin kept to the rooftops as Sméagol and Bilbo mingled in the crowd. Bilbo was dancing while Sméagol socialized. It hurt watching him dance with the women, but he comforted himself in the fact that Bilbo had wanted him.

At least, he had.

Now, Thorin couldn’t be sure. He shook his head, clearing his thoughts, and crept closer to Sméagol. He shook someone’s hand and kissed the ring of another before excusing himself.

Thorin followed him down a deserted path…

He caught up and released his dagger, embedding it in the base of Sméagol’s skull, severing the spine. He gasped once, body rigid. Thorin pulled the dagger out and left, letting Sméagol bleed out on the carpet beneath him.

“Master?”

Thorin paused for half a second then ran, unable to escape the enraged, horrified scream that emitted from Bilbo’s throat.

Thorin scaled a wall and raced along the rooftops, heading home.

#

“So,” Dwalin asked when Thorin returned, sitting at Thorin’s desk in his room. “How’d it go?”

“Well enough,” Thorin said. “Almost too easy.”

“It’s nice when it’s like that.”

“So what was your task?”

“Well…about that…” Dwalin smiled nervously. “I already graduated, in a sense.”

“You…what?”

“While you were recovering I was assigned to go after some big guy in the Ring…Olifer Snagrat, if I recall. The Uruk, or something of that sort. Gave me a bit of a fight, but I got him down eventually. It was the only reason I was allowed to know what your assignment was. My job was actually to make sure you completed yours.” He winked. “Gerontius is proud. You’ll see it in the morning.”

Thorin sat down and removed his vambraces. “I fear that this act has only poisoned Bilbo against his family more.”

Dwalin arched a brow. “I thought you said there was nothing between you two.”

“There isn’t.”

“Then stop brooding over something that isn’t going to happen, even if Gerontius approves of the match. The likelihood of you and Bilbo is rather…you’re star-crossed, you know. Nothing good comes out of star-crossed lovers. One of them always dies.”

Thorin winced. “You’re rather morbid tonight.”

“I just watched you kill someone. I think I deserve to be a little morbid. Especially if you are being a little melancholy over your kill and the effect it will have on others. You know Sméagol was not a good man. He was Ring. You did the world a favor.”

In the long run, Dwalin was likely right, but was he correct in that reasoning entirely?

Thorin doubted it. “Well, one way or another, I’m tired. I’m going to bed.”

“Fine by me. Goodnight, Thorin,” Dwalin said as he left, clapping Thorin’s shoulder.

That night, Thorin dreamt of being hacked to pieces by Bilbo. He woke in a cold sweat and didn’t sleep for the rest of the night.

#

As Dwalin had said, Gerontius was delighted with Thorin.

From then on, income increased as he took on assignments, allowing for Thorin to send more money home to Dis. If she was curious where the extra income had come from, she did not ask. Likely, she would demand to know when he saw her next.

He knew he’d just tell her he was promoted. Other than that, there was nothing he could tell her unless he wanted her to find out he became a contract killer.

Indeed, that was _not_ something he wanted his little sister to know. Even worse would be if Balin ever found out. Thorin shuddered to think what he’d do to him for allowing Dwalin joining him in…illegal activities. Murder. Assassination.

Thorin massaged his forehead, sighing as he waited for his payment.

The man returned, handing him a bag.

“There you are,” he said. “I am grateful for your service, Sir, and hope we meet again.”

Thorin didn’t answer, inspecting the money. Pleased to find he would not have to murder another client for trying to cheat him of his pay, he bowed and left.

“Didn’t kill anyone else today, did you?”

He spun around, dagger aimed at another man’s throat. He didn’t blink or wince. He wasn’t startled at all. The man arched a brow and snorted, uncrossing his arms.

“Not the best, I find, but still fairly good. Experience should make you more aware.”

“Who are you?”

“You already know, Thorin son of Thrain.”

“I am certain I don’t.”

The man smirked. “Then you will. See you tonight. And go the long way around. You’re being hunted by the Ring. You really pissed someone off, it seems.”

Thorin lowered his arm and the man walked away, Thorin tried to follow, but he disappeared when he turned a corner. He shook his head, wondering what had just happened (and who would be following him), and went home.


	7. Chapter 7

“I’d freshen up before dinner tonight,” Dwalin suggested. Thorin arched a brow at him as he folded his coat.

“Care to elaborate?”

“Wish I could. I’m just acting as a messenger right now. Gerontius’ orders.”

“Then I’ll freshen up and we’ll head down to the dining room together.”

“Good. Wear your hood.”

Thorin blinked, then nodded. “If it is required…”

“That was the impression I got from the master,” Dwalin said. Thorin narrowed his eyes. “I really don’t know what’s going on!”

“I find that hard to believe,” Thorin said. “But in respect of our friendship, I’ll take your word for it.”

Dwalin snorted as Thorin got ready for whatever meeting was about to happen. They left together, walking in silence toward the ball room.On entering, Thorin swallowed on seeing the assassins in the room, both male and female. All wearing different hoods and varying of age from around Dis’ age to Gerontius’. Thorin never thought there would be this many killers under one roof and he glanced at Dwalin, who remained as still as Thorin did.

They entered the room, mingling in the silent crowd. A curtain opened and Gerontius stepped forward, white hood crisp in the light. With him was another assassin. Gerontius cleared his throat. “Tonight, I wish to announce my retirement,” he said. “I will have one last mission and after that, no matter it’s outcome, my son,” he clapped the assassin’s shoulder and squeezed. Thorin noticed a quirk of the lips on the unnamed assassin. “Isengrim Took, will be master of the Great Smials of Tuckborough. He shall be the Fifteenth Thain of the Assassins.”

The announcement was met with polite applause and they descended the steps. The closer they approached, the faster Thorin’s heart beat in his chest from anxiety. At last, they stopped by him and Dwalin. They bowed and Isengrim hummed, smirking.

He knew that voice. “It’s you!” Thorin exclaimed.

Isengrim laughed and clapped his shoulder. “I think we’ll get along just fine,” he said.

“I said you would,” Gerontius said, grinning at them. “I think it’s time to eat.”

“Father…”

“What? Every time is a good time to eat.”

“Well, he’s not wrong,” Dwalin mumbled. Gerontius laughed and they moved on down to the next row.

Thorin turned to look ahead of him, staring at blank space. Was this last mission what he thought it was?

#

_“I love you,” Thorin whispered in Bilbo’s ear before kissing down his chest, listening to the steady breathing of his lover get deeper and heavier as he pleasured him…_

Thorin woke with a jolt, gasping. He sighed and laid back down, hiding his face with his arm. He needed to rid himself of these…irrational thoughts and desires.

Bilbo might reciprocate, but they were on opposite sides. All that he could see happening was death.

Death and heartbreak.

It wasn’t worth it and this lust was not doing him any favors save fueling his heartache. The sooner he let go, the better.

The rest of the night, he tossed and turned until he gave up on sleeping all together and dressed, heading out into the night. He raced on the rooftops, feeling the wind whip and sting his face. He jumped onto a church roof and scaled the steeple, watching the moon and the clouds moving in front of it. Thorin recalled a story that his parents used to tell him as a child as he watched the moon. There were once two lovers. One of the lovers was the lifter of the moon and the other the archer of the sun.

But no matter how much they loved each other, they could not be together for their duties called them to remain apart for the majority of the day, only able to see each other at dawn and at dusk when they both were in the sky at the same time.

That was how Thorin felt his love for Bilbo would be like. Always on opposite sides and never able to be together.

To add, Bilbo had tried to kill him. Whether or not he knew it or not didn’t matter. Thorin knew. And that should be enough.

For whatever reason, he was willing to forgive Bilbo…or rather, he saw Bilbo as someone entirely different from Sting and it was Sting who tried to kill him whereas Bilbo was a handsome young man who flirted with Thorin, kissed him, and even showed genuine interest in.

Sting was the killer.

Sting was a Knight of the Ring.

Sting was the enemy.

But Bilbo was different.

Bilbo was sweet.

Bilbo was kind.

Bilbo was beautiful with his golden curls, sun-kissed face, and bright grey eyes.

Thorin ran his hand through his hair and over his eyes. _Fuck damn it,_ he thought. _I don’t even know him. How can I be in love with him?_

#

“Smaug will be at the Dale Docks,” Gerontius said. “That is where we will attack. His ship is set to depart at midnight.”

“The Dale Docks are a day away from us,” Thorin said. “Which gives us plenty of time to attack.”

Gerontius clicked his tongue. “Not quite. He’ll be well guarded. Due to his disagreements with the Ring, he has been hunted more than you think. We are not the only ones displeased with him. He is, quite simply, very resourceful. It is possible that we might run into the Ring while there as well.”

“And if we do, then there will likely be a battle for his head,” Dwalin concluded.

“Well, I don’t imagine that we’d side with them,” Gerontius said. “But at the same time, would you really want the glory of taking his head taken from you?”

Thorin shook his head. He certainly didn’t.

Gerontius nodded. “I didn’t think so. We leave at dawn tomorrow. I suggest you get as much sleep as you can manage.”

#

Sleep?

Who needed sleep when the very reason you became an assassin had come at last?

Such thoughts ran through Thorin’s head that night as he laid on his back, staring at the ceiling.

His door opened and he seized the knife under his pillow.

“You awake?”

“Dwalin?” Thorin asked. “God, I thought you were Ring.” He put the knife down. “You can’t sleep either?”

“No. Seems surreal, you know? Finally doing it.”

Thorin did know and said as much. “Are you nervous?”

“A bit, but I think it’s more excitement. We’ve been trying to avenge your family for generations. I never thought we’d get to do it so soon.” Dwalin sat on the bed. “What are we going to do after we kill him?”

Thorin bit his lip. “I don’t know. You can do whatever you wish, but me, I might…I might stay. It’s good money, even if questionable. Plus, Dis is being courted. She might get married soon. She doesn’t need me around as much as she used to.”

“I don’t know about that. You’re her big brother. Somehow, I get the feeling she’ll always need you. Me? Well, I joined you for this reason alone. If you’re staying, so am I. We’re partners in crime for all time, you rat bastard. Get used to it. Although,” Dwalin stretched and laid on the bed. “I’d like to see Ori again. Perhaps I’ll be able to talk to him. Tell him what I think of him.”

“What happened to not wanting to take risks?”

“I’m a trained, professional killer now,” Dwalin said. “So I don’t think anything is likely to happen…but you know what, the more I think about it, the more I want to know if he’s…like me or your or at least open…”

“I know what you mean.”

“And maybe you yourself can find a lad who can give you the love you want, too,” Dwalin said. “Someone who won’t try to kill you, mind.”

“You really don’t like Bilbo, do you?’

“As a person, and appearance wise, I’m not surprised that you fancy him and I would like him. I would be happy for you if he had not tried to kill you.”

“He didn’t know it was me,” Thorin reminded him. “So I have to wonder: what would he have done if he had known? Do we know if he’d have killed me then?”

“No, we don’t, but I think it’s safe to assume he would. Or rather, since you were still an apprentice then, that he’d probably try and get you to switch sides. Maybe play at being a spy for them.”

Thorin hummed. Perhaps that would happen.

“Well, then, good thing he doesn’t know.”

“I’d rather you be a spy than dead, Thorin,” Dwalin said quietly. “You really think I want to lose you? What would I tell Dis?”

“It was a jest. A mild one. I’m glad I’m alive and I am glad that Bilbo doesn’t know. I don’t think he’s ready to find out the truth. Besides, I killed his mentor, master, and guardian. I don’t think he’s in a state of mind to hear the truth. At least not yet.”

Dwalin hummed. “But you still fancy him.”

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t. It’s like…I see Sting and Bilbo as two different people.”

“And yet, it’s the same face. Two sides of the same coin.”

Thorin nodded. “I suppose that’s the best way to describe it. I don’t like Sting, but Sting is a cold blooded killer. Bilbo isn’t that. Bilbo is…he’s alive and vibrant and beautiful and…”

“And you’re more besotted than I thought for someone who doesn’t even know the object of their affections.”

“Like you know Ori?”

“Fair enough.” Dwalin stood. “I’m going to try and get some sleep. You should too.”

“That depends on whether or not I can sleep,” Thorin said. “Goodnight, Dwalin. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Same. Goodnight.”

Dwalin left the room and shut the door behind him. Thorin laid back down and turned on his side, staring out the window.


	8. Chapter 8

They arrived at the docks as the sun painted the sky orange. Gerontius had Dwalin and Thorin position themselves on the ship Smaug would take—the Red Dragon. Thorin blended in the shadows while Dwalin took the captain’s place, dumping the body in the water.

One by one, the sailors’ throats were cut and their bodies disposed of quietly, silently, carefully…

Some had fought, attempting to stop the killing or even kill someone themselves. Thorin dodged them as best he could, as did Dwalin and Gerontius. Granted, their master hadn’t got them caught.

At last, the final body was tossed in the river and Gerontius turned to them. “You have a long way to go if you’re still being found out.”

Dwalin shrugged.

“Get back in position: we don’t have much time left.”

Thorin’s every fiber felt on fire as they saw Smaug’s carriage approach. He stepped out and fixed his cloak around his shoulders, looking at the ship.

“Good evening, Master Smaug.”

He froze and turned to a person approaching from the shadows. “Sting.” Thorin felt numb as Bilbo approached Smaug. “What do I owe this pleasure?”

“Sauron wishes to speak with you. He asked me to escort you.”

“Personally?”

“Enough questions. We must go.”

Thorin turned to Gerontius, who signaled him to knock Bilbo out and kill Smaug. Thorin nodded.

“I was about to leave,” Smaug said. “Sauron need not worry about my interference anymore.”

“Perhaps not, but I still have to bring you to him, Smaug.”

“Sting—”

Bilbo held a hand up, looking at the ship. “Do you hear that?” he asked. Smaug furrowed his brow and followed Bilbo’s line of sight. “Who’s there?” Bilbo demanded, unsheathing his sword. “Show yourself!”

Gerontius looked at Thorin again and signed:

_I will take Bilbo. Focus on Smaug._

Thorin’s gut lurched as Gerontius approached them, stepping out of the shadows, daggers in hand. Bilbo growled and lunged.

“You fool!” Smaug snarled.

“I know who killed your parents,” Gerontius said, breaking the vow of silence. Bilbo paused. “And he stands behind you.”

Bilbo turned to Smaug, then back. “You lie. They were assassinated.”

“They were killed in a fire. An arsonist.”

“What are you waiting for?!” Smaug bellowed. “He is lying! Kill him! That is your job!”

“I know you.”

“You do. You’re my—”

Smaug shoved Bilbo aside and stabbed Gerontius in the heart. “Be silent, Old Thain.”

“What have you done?!” Bilbo shouted.

“You don’t need answers about what happened, Sting. It was a long time ago. You can kill as many assassins as you dare, but it won’t bring your parents back.”

Thorin growled, lunging at Smaug and embedding dagger into his skull, killing him instantly. Bilbo blinked and stood, sword changing to the whip he had used to injure Thorin before. Thorin stepped back, focused on Bilbo, when a hand came down on Bilbo’s neck at the base of his skull. Dwalin nodded at him and approached Gerontius.

He lifted him up and turned to Thorin.

_We need to leave._

Thorin sighed. _I know._

#

Isengrim stood at the grave silently as Thorin approached. “You wanted to speak with me?”

“I did.” Isengrim turned to him. “My father trained you for a reason. What was it?”

“I wanted to avenge my family. In return, he wanted us to find Bilbo Baggins.”

“My nephew.”

“He’s alive.”

“I know. My father left me a letter, explaining. I wanted to make sure you understood what he expected from you.”

“I do.”

“Personally, I think my nephew does not exist anymore. At least not who I thought he would be. He’s a Knight of the Ring. If you wish, you are welcome to fulfill his wish, but I don’t care. Bilbo is nothing to me but a memory. That young man is our enemy. So whatever you want to do, keep that in mind.”

“I will.”

“Good.” Isengrim handed him a slip of parchment. “This is your next assignment. You have two nights, Thorin, then report back to me by dawn on the third day.”

Thorin bowed and left, pulling his hood over his face.


End file.
